Lucid Wishing
by Luthengrad
Summary: On his eighth birthday, Harry wished for a proper family. He half got it, gaining a sister, Violet, he only met in his dreams. Months after the Battle of Hogwarts, she screams for help so he goes and saves her. However, something's different - he's not dreaming any more. Possibly stuck in Violet's world, Harry has to find his place and meet the rest of her family. The Potters.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

It had been a very hot July, so little Harry was somewhat thankful that he was inside instead of outside weeding. Too bad that his cupboard was growing stuffy after three days.

Harry was curled up in the corner, eyes closed, imagining what today should be like. It was his eighth birthday and he knew that it wasn't normal for little boys to be ignored on their birthdays and be left in cupboards. He'd been told that his aunt, uncle and cousin were his only family and that he should be thankful that they were so generous to feed, clothe and house him. Not that they did much of that.

No, Harry Potter sat there, imagining a proper party with friends and his parents. He didn't know their names, nor had he seen any pictures, but he liked to think that his mum was beautiful (certainly nothing like Aunt Petunia), and his dad handsome and funny. A common past time for Harry while he was locked in his cupboard was to try and guess which bits he got from whom. Were his eyes his mum's or his dad's? His nose? His hair which Aunt Petunia so abhorred?

Didn't matter, they were his parents, they'd be wonderful. He'd have friends, but not like Dudley's gang. Actual friends who liked rather than feared him, and who were nice to people even if they weren't part of the group.

About now they'd be called in for cake and presents. Happy Birthday would be sung, and Harry would blow out the candles. The boy was so engrossed in his daydream that eyes closed he blew at the empty air, which in his mind's eye snuffed out the candles. Now for the wish. The same wish, he made every night.

"I wish I had a proper family."

* * *

Not exactly meanwhile, because it was a few worlds over and a month later, a little girl sat staring at her birthday cake. There wasn't much she wanted - her parents loved her, she had friends, she got almost everything she wanted. The only thing wrong seemed to be her older brother. He wasn't anything like she thought an older brother should be. He ignored her, and if not teased her. But not in a playful way. He spent so much time with Neville that she thought they were siblings and she the only child.

She'd tried talking to Leo but that never worked, and her parents weren't much more helpful. Maybe it was only possible through a wish? The girl took a deep breath at blew out her six candles, with a wish.

_I wish I had a proper older brother._

She couldn't help but glance across at her brother. He was busy whispering to Neville and probably plotting a prank against her. He looked up and merely smirked at her. Nope, the wish didn't work.

* * *

Harry knew he'd fallen asleep, but now he was standing in a hallway in a house he didn't recognise. It was big, and looked like some of the fancy houses he saw on Aunt Petunia's shows. He didn't know how he'd got here but he just knew he'd be in trouble when the police took him for breaking and entering. He didn't think that he was old enough for prison, so he'd be sent back to the Dursleys. He honestly wasn't sure which would be worse.

"Hello?" his small voice seemed to be swallowed up by the dark ends of the corridor.

No one seemed about to jump out and arrest him, so he figured he look for a way out. Then he could work out how to get back to Privet Drive. He looked left and right, he thought he saw a staircase to the right.

He'd barely taken a step when he heard soft noises coming from behind him. Harry knew those sounds, he'd cried softly to himself plenty of times before he'd learnt to do so silently. Harry went to take another step to the stairs before admitting he couldn't just leave.

Harry tiptoed down the hall, pausing by each door to check where the sobs were coming from. Finally he reached one labelled, "Violet's Room", from which he could hear someone crying.

Just as softly Harry knocked. The crying stopped, and ears trained in late night food runs heard light steps approach the door. It opened just a crack, and Harry looked down into the puffy eyes of a young girl. Eyes he saw every time he looked in a mirror.

"Why are you crying?" he asked softly.

"My brother hates me," the girl hiccuped.

"Oh," Harry didn't know what to say. He didn't understand why his relatives hated him, and was even less able to imagine how a brother could hate his sister. They stood on either side of the barely open door for a minute before he offered, "I don't have any brothers. Or sisters. Or even parents."

"Oh, sorry." There was another silence, then Violet smiled slightly and opened the door halfway, "would you like to be my brother? Mine's not very good."

A sister? Family? Of course.

"Yes. I'm Harry." He stuck out his hand like he'd seen his uncle do.

Harry suddenly had arms wrapped around him. "I'm Violet."

* * *

Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, now the Man Who Vanquished, looked around the room he'd been staying in. It had been two months since the Battle of Hogwarts, and most of the repairs were done. The Wizarding World was rebuilding and things were looking up.

He felt slightly guilty about what he was about to do, but kept telling himself that he'd never had a proper vacation. And if he didn't just do it he'd keep being drawn into things and not get a moment's peace. He needed a break to grieve before going back for his delayed last year of Hogwarts.

That justification didn't sit well with him, but something in him kept urging him to be ready to travel. So here he was packing all his possessions in a new, shrinking trunk. He'd withdrawn quite a lot of gold - Gringotts hadn't been happy with the break-in and taken a third of his fortune as compensation. Harry didn't much care. He scanned the room one last time, everything was either in the bag at his feet or in the mokeskin bag around his neck.

"Are you sure about this?" were Hermione's first words when she caught him leaving his suite.

"No," Harry honestly replied, "I'm not. But something keeps telling me to prepare."

"I know that you're hurting but we all are and this isn't going to help."

Harry gave her one of his infamous looks.

"Oh, don't look at me like that. If I was really against this, I'd be putting up much more of fight."

"You're right. Sorry."

They'd made their way to entrance hall when they were joined by two red headed figures.

"Ready to go?" Ron asked, then threw his hands in the air at Harry and Hermione's surprised looks, "What? I'm not letting you two go off on your own. Who knows what would happen?"

"What about your mum?" Harry asked, he didn't want to think what Molly would do to him for stealing away one or, given Ginny's presence, two of her babies away right now.

"That's why I'm agreeing now. We can be gone before she realises. We're not going anywhere nearly as dangerous as our last trip and we'll be back in a month."

Harry thought this wasn't the best plan, but he didn't like the feeling of going away without his best friends.

"I'm going too. You're not leaving me behind again."

Harry merely nodded, he'd known that was what Ginny would say.

"If you're all ready," he got a trio of nods, "let's go."

He went to exit the castle but fell to the ground, writhing in agony. His friends immediately recognised the signs of a Voldemort vision and were frozen in horror that it might not be over.

Harry looked down at the snivelling girl at his feet. The girl was a good hostage, bound to draw out Dumbledore and his silly Order. And hopefully the Longbottom boy. Gently he crouched down and lifted her chin to look him in the eye.

"Come now, what would your parents think?" he said in his silkiest manner, "What shall I do with your little mudblood self?"

Violet stopped shivering, and managed a feeble glare at him. "Do anything and you'll regret it."

"Will I?" Harry replied, "_Crucio_."

The girl screamed and it was music to his ears. He lifted the curse, so that she could beg for help. Which she did. First her father, then her mother, her godfather, Dumbledore. Harry raised his wand, she'd begged enough, they hadn't come. Her scream returned, sounding oddly like a name.

"HARRY!"

The screaming stopped, and Harry stood, shaking slightly.

"Harry? Was it him?" Ginny tentatively asked, Harry briefly guessed that Hermione and Ron were fetching help.

"Yes. He's got Vi."

With barely a glance to check he still had his bags and wand, Harry turned and disappeared.

Hermione was the first to return, Madame Pomfrey in tow, to find a bewildered Ginny standing alone in the entrance hall.

"Where is he?"

"He disapparated. Said Voldemort had Vi. Whoever Vi is."

"But you can't apparate or disapparate on Hogwarts grounds!"

"Looks like Harry can."

* * *

It didn't feel like apparation, or at least not just normal apparation. There was the crushing feeling of apparation, but also the spinning of flooing and wind of a portkey. And other sensations, of expanding, burning, freezing, stillness, even the backwards flight of a time turner.

And suddenly it stopped, and Harry was standing over Vi's still form in Voldemort's throne room.

Everyone froze, and Harry guessed that people didn't often just appear out of thin air in Voldemort's domain. Presumably he even had taken precautions against it.

Harry and Voldemort reacted at the same time, firing their signature spells. Red light met green. For the briefest of moments, the golden thread linked them. But rather than unwinding into the golden cage, it snapped and exploded. Harry staggered in the backlash, but Voldemort bore the worst of it. The magic, turned into golden flames, glinting red and green - roared down upon him.

The light dimmed and all that was left was a smoky smear where the Dark Lord had stood. Silence reigned in the crypt-like room. The Death Eaters were still frozen, they hadn't even recovered from Harry's appearance before Voldemort had gone and gotten himself blown up.

Harry's gaze slowly roamed the room, noting the unfortunately familiar faces. There were far too many to consider fighting. He had to get out of here, and he knew the first move he'd make would knock them out of their stupor and into action. Curses most probably.

Nothing for it, he dropped, grabbing Vi's arm, and disappeared just as green beams of light would have reached them.

They reappeared on a country lane, Harry wasn't sure where. They appeared as they'd left, Harry crouched over Vi's form on the ground. Carefully he held her up, she was still shaking and spasming, symptoms Harry sadly recognised as a result of the Cruciatus. She was whimpering, but seemed to have retreated into unconsciousness. Satisfied that neither of them were splinched, Harry cradled her in his arms and began walking.

Harry wasn't quite sure what was happening. He'd known Vi for years, but there had always been a slight unrealness to his visits. No one ever seemed to notice him and he always had trouble moving things. He had always felt like a ghost whenever he visited. But now, he was much more _here_ than he'd ever been before. And he had no doubt that Voldemort had both been able to see him and be effected by him.

He'd been walking for half an hour when he started recognising things from his visits with Violet. And about two minutes after that, he spied a figure approaching. They stopped thirty yards apart, and Harry shifted Vi so that his wand was pointing in somewhat the right direction.

It was too dark for Harry to properly make out the man's face, but when he spoke he definitely knew that voice.

"Who's there?"

"A friend. My wand," he tossed as far as he could, then carefully placed Vi on the ground and stepped back, "your daughter."

The stunner was quite expected.

* * *

**A/N:** Don't worry, Voldie's not out of action yet. And he won't be gone for eleven years this time either. Not that Harry's going to be able to pull off that trick again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Harry woke naturally, and silently. Which was odd. He'd never slept in Vi's world before. He'd never really felt tired for that matter. His visits had always had a dream-like disconnection to them.

Judging by the cloth under in hands, he was pleasantly surprised to find himself in an actual bed. He had honestly expected either to be in the Hospital Wing or charmed awake bound to a chair. He could hear a conversation going on, he figured just outside his room.

"We don't know who he is, Dumbledore!"

"True, but has he done anything wrong?"

"That doesn't mean we should trust him."

"And we won't until he proves himself."

"He looks just like James. Why does he look like James?"

There was a silence.

"I don't know. We'll be sure to ask that."

With that the door opened, barely making a noise, but years keeping an ear out for his relatives had trained him well. He wanted to roll off the bed and face his captors, but refrained. He knew and trusted them, even if they didn't reciprocate, yet.

While his heart was yelling at him to leap up and hug all these people, his head noted that might not get a favourable response. Thirdly, his gut... his gut, was confused. Harry trusted his gut, it had gotten him out of more scrapes than it had got him into. Part of it was calling for secrecy, to deflect and evade and escape. The rest was clamouring to come clean and let his father figures deal with it. Suffice to say neither option appealed, he may have never turned to adults much in the past but that was no reason to deceive them now. Without a clear direction from his gut, decided to be honest but not let them deal with him like a child.

When a wand poked him in the side with a gruff, "wake up," Harry's instincts – only half faded from the last year on the run – prompted him to grab it. His hands met nothing.

Frowning, he realised someone had merely hit him with a prodding charm. He shuffled into a sitting position, hands in his lap – non-threatening but also not threatened. His act of self control was rather marred by the fact he couldn't see anything more than blurs. How could anyone say he had his mother's eyes when he was as blind as his father?

"Okay, I'm awake. May I have my glasses back?"

With a grunt, as if returning a deadly weapon, a black smear floated towards him and landed in his lap. With a nod and a muttered thank you, he donned them to look at his welcoming party.

And froze. It was one thing to hear their voices, quite another to see their faces. Dumbledore, James, Sirius and Moody. Great, all dead people. Dead people who were looking right at him.

Dead in his world at least. He knew that he hadn't even made it to two in this world, so he was willing let it go. Though, he was sure he'd heard his mother's voice as well.

Suddenly he knew it was going to be very difficult to maintain his composure.

"Is this for real? You can actually see me?" Harry immediately cursed himself for speaking without thinking.

Dumbledore twinkled, though with a small frown, "Yes, we can, my boy. Do you have a history of invisibility?"

The question was so ridiculous that Harry couldn't help but chuckle, "Yeah, for a few years now. It comes and goes. I get it from my father."

"Fascinating," Dumbledore replied, and knowing him, already had a half-polished guess of who Harry was. "Now I believe introductions are in order. I am Albus Dumble-"

Harry held up a hand, "Sorry. No real need. As you may have guessed, I've met you all before. You didn't see me but I was there. Before we go any further, since this is a family matter, I would request that Moody leave."

"Now see here! You're in no position to make demands, _boy_."

Harry just looked blandly at Moody, after seeing both Riddle and Dumbledore at their worst, the scarred ex-auror didn't really faze him.

"I'm unarmed, and it's a reasonable request. Or do you think two aurors and a battle transfiguration master are worth nothing compared to yourself?"

Moody gave a muffled scream of barely controlled rage and, at a look from Dumbledore, stomped out of the room. Harry caught a glimpse of deep red hair before Moody slammed the door shut again. Seems Lily was eavesdropping.

Dumbledore seemed to consider him for a moment before nodding and beginning to cast a series of security wards and privacy charms. Harry wondered if he'd been legilimenced, the headmaster probably had a much defter touch that Snape or Riddle. And he'd never got the proper hang of occlumency anyway.

He took the chance to properly examine James and Sirius. He generally met with Vi when she was feeling lonely, so he'd hadn't got to see his parents that much. Part of why he still found the mirror and his album so enthralling.

His first thoughts were about their ages. They looked the same age, which was a ridiculous thought, since they _were_. But he'd always thought of his father as the age he died, and Azkaban had aged Sirius so much. Before him stood two thirty-ish year olds, in their prime.

"Now that is just the four of us, and we have our privacy, would you mind sharing your story with us, my boy?" Dumbledore asked from a fluffy wing-back he'd conjured at some point while Harry was reminiscing.

"Well, if this wasn't the first time I'd seen you like this I'd think I was crazy, dead or under a forceful illusion by the Death Nibblers. But it isn't, so I don't. Though this is the first time you've seen me, or I've slept here actually." Harry fiddled with his sheets for a second. His gut had settled since choosing this course, though not happily. "I believe I've travelled from an alternate universe, that moves at double speed to here. I've been visiting since I my eighth birthday, almost ten years ago for me, but I think only five for you." He took a deep breath, then looking at Dumbledore (rather than James or Sirius, whose reactions he couldn't bear to watch), said simply, "My name is Harry James Potter."

Utter silence. Dumbledore gave Harry a little nod, whether to say he believed him or had already deduced it, he wasn't sure.

"Liar! Don't you dare use that name."

Unsurprisingly, it was Sirius who broke the silence.

Harry looked past the wand glowing between his eyes, at the face of his ersatz-godfather. He saw a war of emotions – grief and anger most prominent, but just a sparkle of what he thought was hope.

"It is what my parents named me, Padfoot."

Before Harry could try and further defuse Padfoot's anger, James drew himself as confident as Malfoy and spoke.

"I, James Adrian Potter, Head of the Potter Clan, command you, who claim to be Harry James Potter and my clansman, to answer my questions truthfully, until I release you. So mote it be."

As James spoke a foreign warmth encased Harry, then poured through him. Down his spine, under his hard-won occlumency shields – however weak they were – making his blood tingle. So engrossed in the feelings he almost missed the soft golden light linking him and James.

"What the hell was that?"

James' bearing slipped for a second, "Me invoking the Potter family magics, didn't your father teach you anything?"

"No, he was murdered before I turned two," Harry replied before he could help himself. _Okay, password activated veritaserum, was that even possible?_ Well his gut was right about one thing, he wouldn't be lying apparently.

After that revelation, James' façade shattered, revealing nothing so much as horror.

"By who?"

"Tom Riddle," seeing no recognition, Harry clarified, "Voldemort."

That seemed to knock everyone back on track.

"Who was your father."

"James Potter."

James frowned, obviously not getting the answers he wanted. "And your mother?"

"Lily Potter nee Evans."

"What is your name?"

"As I said, Harry James Potter." Seemed whatever spell James had cast, unlike veritaserum, still allowed Harry a little attitude with his answers.

"Who are your siblings?"

The magic swirled inside, as Harry thought about who were his siblings. Violet, definitely – did that make Leo his too? Hermione and Ron, yes; Neville and Luna? The Weasleys?

"Not sure. Violet, Hermione and Ron at least." More puzzled looks but a thoughtful frown from Albus.

"How did you find Violet?"

"I heard her calling me for help, so I apparated to her. Felt really odd though. Appeared above Violet, got a hex in before apparating the two of us out of there."

"Why did you rescue Violet?"

The look James received for that question communicated quite a lot, but whatever magics that had been invoked required a verbal response.

"Because my sister called when she was in danger."

"James," Dumbledore interrupted, "I believe you should release your invocation. You've proven he is who he says he is, you're coming close to abusing you powers. You know the risks of forcing out secrets this way."

James closed his eyes and pushed his glasses up to rub at the bridge of his nose, a habit Harry never knew they shared.

"You're right. But three more questions. Did you come from an alternate universe?"

"I believe so."

"How long have you been _visiting_ this world?"

"Since my eighth and Vi's sixth birthdays, I think it what we both made our birthday wishes for."

All three gave him weird looks, but then again, only Luna had ever agreed that there might be some truth to the idea of birthday wishes.

"Do you mean any harm to the Potter Clan?"

"No."

James smiled grimly, "Well then. I release you from my questioning. So mote it be."

The tingle in his blood dulled and the warmth cooled as the golden light retracted into James. Strangely, Harry felt himself missing it.

The silence stretched, until once again Sirius broke it.

"So now what?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The silence stretched, until once again Sirius broke it.

"So now what?"

"Well, I believe we should make Harry here comfortable," Dumbledore said that cheery, unflappable way of his. "I gather since you seemed surprised to wake up here, you normally return automatically?"

"I guess," Harry shrugged, "It's always been a bit dream-like, makes it hard to think too much."

"So you have no idea how to get back to your home?"

"No."

"Well, then, you'll just have to stay here until we figure this out!" Dumbledore said with a happy clap.

Now it was Dumbledore's turn to receive three identical incredulous looks. Which he ignored, naturally.

"So you're eighteen then Harry?"

"Seventeen actually, when I left it was just the start of July. So a few more weeks until I'm eighteen." Harry wasn't sure where this line of questioning was going, but it did give him a chance to reinforce his adult status.

"Do you remember what you got for your NEWTs?"

"Haven't taken them yet. My seventh year was... interrupted. Voldemort took control of the school. It wasn't safe to be there. And I had more important things to be dealing with."

"Voldemort takes Hogwarts?" Sirius almost stammered. "What about the Headmaster?"

Harry looked grimly at his lap. Dumbledore may have been dying and _asked_ Snape to kill him, but that night was still horrible.

"A student got Death Eaters into the castle at the end of my sixth year. One of them killed him."

"Were the students safe?"

Harry smiled a little at Dumbledore's priorities.

"Nothing more that bruises that night. As for the next year... as safe as they could be. Some of the teachers were still loyal, your replacement headmaster did his best and Neville started a bit of a student resistance."

"Neville? Neville Longbottom, Neville?" James prompted.

"Yeah, he was pretty awesome. Beheaded Nagini, Voldie's familiar, actually."

"I feel we've wandered off track," Dumbledore gently pointed out, "I'm sure we'll have many opportunities for Harry to share his stories in the future. Now we need to decide on his story for here and now."

"Well, he can't really be Harry, he's too old and alive, but he'll have to a member of the Potter Clan," James mused to himself, "You can't keep that kind of thing a secret, and I can't disown him no reason."

"Gee, thanks," Harry couldn't help snarking. "So who's in the Potter Clan, then? I've never really been told much."

James gave him a less incredulous look this time, then shifted more into that pureblooded posturing. "We'll there's the Potters (me, you, your mother and siblings), the Burnt Blacks (Sirius and the Tonkses really), and Remus. There's a few other small families that have been allies and clansmen for generations. Basically lines from muggleborns or house-less wizards marrying Potter daughters. Second, third or more cousins."

Harry considered the bare-bone explanation and drew on his neglected Slytherin side to come up with a course of action.

"So was Remus a 'house-less wizard' that you adopted into the clan? Could we give me a fake name and claim we did that?" Harry proposed. _I wish I'd bothered to ask Neville or Ron about this stuff._

"Not quite for Remus," James answered with grim frown.

"It's not a bad idea," Dumbledore conceded, "in saving Violet's life the Potter Clan would owe you a debt. And clan adoption is a traditional method of repayment."

"True, but I don't think we can just make Harry a Potter," Sirius said in a moment of thoughtful seriousness. "It's bad form to insert an heir to the top of the queue. Even if they are your eldest from another reality."

"Plus," Harry felt the need to point out, "Riddle's going to be way too interested in a new Harry Potter. A new name sounds like the best bet."

"Ooh, ooh!" Sirius devolved into a five year old and started waving his hand in the air. "Does that mean we can use those names Lily vetoed?"

Alarm flared in Harry's stomach, what stupid crazy name ideas would Padfoot be likely to suggest? He narrowed his eyes at his godfather and tried to burn them out of his head.

James looked askance, "Padfoot, I think Uric and Betelgeuse are best kept to inflict on your own children. Also, I think Harry's trying to set you on fire with his eyes."

Sirius looked up from where he was muttering. And recoiled from Harry. "No, he's got The Look!"

"Well, Vi calls me Ry, so what about Rhys? And Brian for a middle name? Not sure what for a last name. Maybe Evans, from mum?"

Dumbledore seemed pleased with his choice of middle name and Harry thought he might have even spied a blush on the old wizard's cheeks.

"Nice thought," James replied, "but it might be a bit obvious."

"A connection is good," Sirius argued, "names are important. I'd suggest Jameson but that's even _more_ obvious. Too bad Prongs isn't a name."

"Sirius, you're a genius!" Harry said, while Sirius agreed that yes he was, "Prongs is a stag. Or a hart. Staghorn, or Hart-something?"

"What about Hartell?" Sirius suggested. "Means little hart."

"Okay," Harry accepted somewhat reluctantly, he hated being short. Then he looked at Sirius curiously, "why do you know that?"

"I'm a Black," he answered with a shrug, "we take names _very_ seriously. Also when we were naming our Marauder selves I looked up stuff for Jamsie-boy here. For instance, if you didn't like Hartell I'd suggest Foley which means marauder."

"Nah, I'll stick will Hartell. Doesn't hurt that it sounds like my real name a bit."

"Rhys Brian Hartell," James said to himself, "Not too shabby a name."

"Well, now that a name's been sorted," Dumbledore twinkled, "we can come up with the rest of your story. And I'll get my contacts in the Ministry to fake the paperwork. You'll have to have been home-schooled obviously..."

It was another half hour later that they wrapped up Harry's cover story.

Rhys Hartell was a half-blood, son of two muggleborns. His father was killed in a Diagon Alley raid in early '83. This frightened his mother into keeping him from Hogwarts, instead home-schooling him. At seventeen he took his OWLs to qualify for his wizarding licence.

His last year had been stressful. Finishing muggle school while he worked with a tutor (Remus was volunteered) to prepare him to take his NEWTs. And on top of this, his mother fell ill and passed away.

An unfortunate set of circumstances, but nothing unbelievable. It was the kind of life story similar to many who couldn't afford Hogwarts. No bright future, ministry job or the like, but more akin to Stan Shunpike. Or leaving the wizarding world altogether.

Rhys Hartell would've been a nobody, had he not been in the right place at the right time.

Violet had run off, and strayed outside the town wards. She'd been attacked by dementors and it was only Rhys's good timing that saved her. He managed to fend it off with a corporal patronus, then escorted her home. The Potters were so thankful they insisted on a clan adoption and sending him to Hogwarts to complete his education.

The story was all lies of course. Except the gratitude.

Violet had been kidnapped on a weekend visit to the park. Three Death Eaters had snuck under the public wards around Godric's Hollow and portkeyed her away before the minimal Order guard (there had been a raid a fortnight ago and normally that would afford a month's quiet), before either could react.

The Order hadn't even gathered fully to plan a rescue mission before Harry had shown up with Violet.

Moody was going to be understandably paranoid about him. More so than usual.

"Well now that's sorted," Dumbledore said, "We probably should change your appearance too. You really do look just like your father,"

"With my mother's eyes," Harry finished, "Yeah I get that a lot."

Though looking at James he doubted he'd ever been described as 'scrawny'.

"A glamour will have to do for now," Dumbledore mused. "I can get Severus to brew some appearance potions, they last longer and can't be dispelled. So how do you want to look?"

Sirius started muttering about Snivellus, but Harry pinned him with The Look again.

"Don't insult him. If Dumbledore trusts him, I do to. I have a decent guess as to why he turned."

In the end the alterations were pretty minor. A heavy duty charm on his hair had it a couple of shades lighter and lying flat, for once. They tweaked his nose a tad and filled out his face bit. The result was handsome enough and he certainly didn't look like a mini-James any more.

"I believe that's everything for now. Shall we go introduce Rhys to the others?"

"Ahem."

The four wizards' eyes snapped the doorway, where a irritated Lily Potter was giving them a Look.

"Now that I have your attention, would someone care to explain to me why none of you called for me once we determined Harry here was _Harry_?"

"Lily-flower!" James exclaimed, then dropped on his knees head bowed, "I'm so sorry, I should have the moment I confirmed it. But I got distracted with what Harry was saying, and coming up with names, and a cover story, then his new look. I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

Lily looked down her nose for a bit then smiled, and patted her grovelling husband's head.

"As long as you realise that. Besides, I was close enough to be included in your invocation. It look me a while to worm under Albus' privacy charms and without the House helping I certainly couldn't have bypassed his locking charms." She looked thoughtful. "I'm sure Moody's not all that happy about still being locked out."

Lily shrugged and walked up to Harry. She leaned in seeming entranced, and he couldn't help feel that she was trying to look past the glamours at his true face. She smiled and pulled him into a hug.

The first hug he'd received from his mother.

After a blissful eternity, she released him to hold him at arms length.

"I never thought I'd meet you. The infamous Ree, I've heard so much about you. Thank you for looking after Vi."

"Not a problem," Harry grinned in reply. It was what he did.

Lily stood and turned to the others, "Now we can go and introduce Rhys to the Order. I believe they're all here now. Better warn Moody and Remus (who I'm assuming you've roped into this) about what's going on."

* * *

As you might suspect, various Family magics are going to be important in this story. Lily? She just barged in without giving me any warning. In case you're wondering: she's written as saying Ree because that's what it sounds like (even if she suspected the truth), whereas Harry called himself Ry because he knew it was from Harry.

I can totally see Sirius naming his son Betelgeuse, both for the sound and movie reference. Plus it's Orion's armpit. That one-ups Andromeda's cruelty in naming Nymphadora.


End file.
